


One of Those Days

by singmetothesun



Series: Movieverse Oneshots [6]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: EVERYTHING GOES WRONG, Earthquake rescue, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Minor Injuries, Some Humor, Virgil Whump, movieverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singmetothesun/pseuds/singmetothesun
Summary: Nothing was going right for Virgil. Nothing.
Relationships: Virgil Tracy & Gordon Tracy, Virgil Tracy & Scott Tracy
Series: Movieverse Oneshots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1023978
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	One of Those Days

**Author's Note:**

> Virgil chose to be clumsy AF so this is all on him. Honest.

  
  
**ONE OF THOSE DAYS**  
~ a Thunderbirds oneshot by singmetothesun

* * *

  
  


It started right from the moment he got out of bed.

Standing up, he ended up almost face-planting the floor due to not feeling at which point his right foot made contact with the ground. His knees buckled and he flailed, instincts saving him as he managed to roll into a sitting position, blinking, utterly baffled as to how he got there. That was until the crackling sensation made itself known, scraping up his right leg and he shuddered.

Pins and needles.

It explained his position on the floor. His brain had not understood why it hadn’t registered his limb on the floor because his leg was numb. He must have slept weird, the blood circulation cut off by the position he’d been lying in for the night. It wasn’t too surprising, given Virgil was a rather heavy non-moving sleeper. It was just an uncomfortable start to the morning.

He stayed put on the floor until the horrible sensation disappeared and his limb felt mostly normal again, stretching it experimentally before standing up and slowly putting weight on his foot. It wasn’t hurting so he hadn’t twisted it thankfully.

It wasn’t the first thing that went wrong.

He swore loudly after stubbing his toe on the bathroom door, hopping on the foot that had been afflicted with pins and needles as the sharp pain ran through the other one. Breathing deeply through it, he carried on with a weird sort of limp while his muscles relaxed. He used the toilet and showered with no trouble and he sighed in relief as he brushed his teeth. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed he could handle, he was by no means a morning person after all. He was perhaps a little disoriented and not quite properly awake yet.

That feeling only magnified when he went to fill the small glass by the sink. As he turned off the tap and raised it to drink and rinse his mouth out, he dropped it and watched as it hit the sink and smashed. He instinctively leapt back to avoid glass in his eyes or hands before groaning in frustration at the mess.

He decided to leave it there until later.

Getting dressed and gelling his hair, taking things slower than usual just to be sure, he headed out the bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen. A cup of steaming coffee sounded really good. That was all he needed to get back on track.

He probably should have heard his brother coming in all honesty, the prankster easily making his presence known under most circumstances. Virgil rounded the corner and before he knew it, he was stumbling backward, his shirt drenched, the unmistakable scent of oranges in the air.

Gordon guffawed before apologising, yelling behind him for a towel. Virgil could only stand on the spot, looking down at himself and the spectacular addition to his wardrobe, before silencing Gordon’s apologies with a hand and a huff of breath. He then continued his journey into the kitchen as a figure passed by the other side of the counter, probably Scott from Virgil’s peripheral vision, armed with a tea towel.

He switched the coffee maker on, grabbed a cup from the rack and leaned against the counter, shutting his eyes. Once he had the coffee down his throat, he’d make quick work of changing his shirt. 

Scott came back into the room with the now orange juice-covered towel, though Virgil was wholly convinced most of the pint cup Gords had been holding was now down his front. It was grim too, their water-loving brother opting for the brand with bits rather than smooth like the rest of them.

The coffee maker screamed, and he gladly inhaled the bitter scent to rid his senses of all the citrus as he poured the liquid into his cup, grabbing a spoon and dumping a teaspoon of sugar from the bag next to the machine.

Scott, ever the mother hen, caught on. “Okay, what’s up? You only ever have sugar in your coffee as a comfort-thing, you’re covered in Gordon’s breakfast, and I’m sure I heard you swear earlier.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the coffee as his brother’s worried eyes bored into him.

And promptly spat it out again.

Right into his eldest brother’s face.

They both yelled in disgust, Virgil coughing to get the taste out of his mouth and Scott dabbing away the spat-out coffee from his face with the orange juice towel. Virgil winced in apology, turning to the sink and pouring the rest of the cup away. He then reached for the bag he’d _thought_ was sugar.

Salt.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” he grumbled, moving it away from the coffee maker and into the cupboard it was supposed to be kept, swapping it for the real sugar, and reactivating the machine. “Gordon’s idea of a joke, no doubt.” 

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Wrong side of the bed,” he said in a tone he hoped conveyed the _don’t-carry-this-on-right-now_ pleading chant that was going round and round his head. The artist just wanted his morning coffee and perhaps a few hours in his studio. Scott held his hands up and Virgil nodded, smiling gratefully.

“I’ll go chuck this in with the laundry. Let me take your shirt,” his brother said, and Virgil nodded, stripping his t-shirt off and throwing it. Scott caught it easily and left the room, leaving Virgil to remake his morning coffee in peace and quiet.

Things didn’t get much better over the course of the day.

The electronic door to his art studio refused to open when he entered the access code. Thinking he was maybe still feeling off, he entered the code again slowly but the screen still flashed _Access Denied_ , mocking him in his moment of need.

Thinking perhaps a mischievous younger brother or two had changed the code as a prank, he took the control panel apart. It made no difference, and there wasn’t a visible fault as far as he could see. He commed Brains who was just as baffled as he was about the cause which did nothing to lift his spirits and he kicked out at the door twice in frustration. Also no effect. John couldn’t even remotely access it from Thunderbird 5.

Virgil retreated down to Two’s hangar in a foul mood. Tinkering would mean at least his hands were busy. He was feeling rather antsy.

He ended up taking apart an instrument panel in the cockpit after running a diagnostic.

He was found sprawled on his back next to the pilot’s chair, a toolkit close to his feet as he rewired the junction plates. 

“Virrrgil!” Gordon’s overly cheerful voice came ringing through the air, bouncing off the metallic walls as the human ball of energy swaggered in. “You’re not answering your comm, so I got sent to getcha.”

“What?” he grunted back.

“Aw c’mon, lighten up! It’s food! You know, fuel for the body? You eat it and it stops your stomach making weird noises. Well, maybe not Alan’s, but-”

“Gordon.”  
  
“What? Get out from under there, it’s dinner time! It’s rude to skip out.”

“I’m busy.”

“I’m pretty sure Two can wait a whole fifteen minutes.”

“Gords, seriously – OW!”

Raising his head too fast to look at his brother, Virgil’s forehead collided with the underside of the console with a loud _clang._ It seemed to echo in his ears. Rubbing the spot with his hand, he sighed resignedly and sat up in increments so as to avoid a repeated knock on the head.

Gordon was stood with his eyebrow raised and Virgil scowled at him.

“It’s really not your day today is it,” the aquanaut said unhelpfully, offering him a hand up which he accepted.  
  
“You’re telling me,” he said dryly. They made their way out of Thunderbird 2, falling into step as they crossed the hangar.

“We were thinking of playing a water polo match after lunch,” Gordon said. “You wanna join?”  
  
“Haven’t you already been in the pool today?” Virgil asked, already knowing the answer. Where Virgil never started his day without coffee, Gordon never started his day without some laps.

“I have, obviously, but Allie asked Scott who could never say no to those baby Tracy puppy eyes and so he said yes. My time in the pool is limited when I’m training, not mucking around. So, you gonna join in?”

He thumbed the access code into the panel for the elevator back up to the villa. “With the day I’m having I’ll probably drown,” he muttered.

Gordon clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good job we all know CPR then, isn’t it?”

The artist shook his head in exasperation. There was no comeback to that.

As it happened, they didn’t get to indulge in said water polo match as they were called out to a magnitude 7.8 earthquake in Taiwan. Most of the modern buildings were earthquake-proofed but the older structures, deemed not important enough to remodel according to John and local authorities were either flattened or partially collapsed.

After clearing the residential area of survivors, they moved on to a partially collapsed fifteen storey research facility, some of its lower floors already pancaked. Scott coordinated with the local rescue workers while Virgil and Gordon ventured in, pulling out more buried bodies than survivors. They quickly made the decision to leave the recovery to the locals while they scaled the building floor by floor.

Virgil made his way up the darkened east stairwell, helmet headlamps lighting the way as the building had long ago lost power. The metallic cladding of the building meant there was lots of interference with Five’s and Two’s scanners. Even though John had picked up a few life signs on the lower floors which they’d reached, they were left to scour the upper floors on their own to check for any more survivors. He and Gordon had split up to cover different sides of the building before meeting in the middle.

_“Virgil, Gordon, how’s it going?”_ came Scott’s voice over the comm.

“Ascending the east stairs up to floor twelve.”

_“Same here, west stairwell,”_ said Gordon.

_“F-A-B. Try the portable scanner again once you’re there.”_

“F-A-B,” Virgil and Gordon said together. Reaching the landing, Virgil retrieved it from his belt, tapping at the device to activate it. It beeped and a visible green light emitted from the end as it began scanning the surroundings. He opened the door to the corridor and began to sweep down past the office doors again, kicking them in and physically looking for extra measure as they couldn’t rely on the scanners in this environment.

He continued through the rooms, calling out and listening for any replies but only hearing Gordon’s voice faintly doing the same. The scanner still wasn’t picking anything up, but neither were his eyes. Until he turned a corner and it whined.

“Hey, I got something.”

_“False alarm, Virg. I think it’s me.”_

Virgil frowned before it dawned on him. “Move 020 degrees to your left.”

Gordon appeared in front of him at the other end of the corridor, waving. The device whined again and there was the clear shape on Gordon on his scanner. He sighed in frustration.

_“Well, at least we know these things are working now. You’re just as short as ever!”_

“Hey!” Virgil said indignantly.

_“Oi, can it, you two. Back to work,”_ Scott scolded in his ear.

“F-A-B, Mobile Control, floor is clear. Our scanners seem to be working now, we have little to no interference up here. Moving out.”

_“Copy that.”_

Virgil glared back at his younger brother before giving the signal to move out. They retreated back to their stairwells and began the ascent again up to the thirteenth floor, Virgil putting the scanner back in his belt as he climbed. He tried very much to _not_ think about how the number thirteen was considered unlucky, especially with the day he’d been having before they were called out.

He must have misstepped, as no sooner had the thought left his mind he stumbled, his stomach dropping as his foot fell back a step and his shins collided harshly with the concrete. He reacted instinctively, gloved hands immediately scrabbling for grip to brace himself. The medkit went flying back to the bottom of the flight of stairs.

“OOOF!” he couldn’t help crying out before trying to catch his breath. That horrible sensation of jerking awake from a dream because you’ve fallen, whole body tense and stomach in mouth. That was what it felt like and he fought to catch his breath.

_“Virgil?”_ Gordon was calling his name.

_“You just tripped up the stairs, didn’t you?”_ Scott asked dryly.

He forced himself to breathe slowly. “Shut up,” he shot back, hearing giggles echoing over the comm.

“I guess Thirteen is unlucky, huh?” Gordon’s voice was both in his ear and much closer as he looked up, he saw his brother upon the landing of the thirteenth floor. He slipped past Virgil to retrieve the fallen med kit, leaving it back on the landing next to his own, before coming back down to sit beside Virgil.

_“You okay?”_

“Yeah,” he said, feeling his heart slow down so it wasn’t beating in his mouth anymore. “Come on, let’s move.”

Gordon gave him a hand which he took and got back to his feet, ascending the last few steps before retrieving his medkit. Gordon went on ahead, calling out before listening for any reply from anyone up here. As Virgil made to switch on his scanner, he heard the shrill whine echoing from Gordon’s.

_“Virg, we got one.”_

“It’s not me this time?”

_“Not unless you’ve teleported to the south side.”_

Virgil’s scanner brought up the same reading as he aimed his scanner towards the southern corner to the left. “Hello?” he called out, he and Gordon heading in the same direction together. “This is International Rescue, can you hear us?”

“Help!” came a weak voice as they got closer. Virgil looked towards Gordon and nodded.

_“Thunderbird 4 to Mobile Control, we have a casualty, repeat, we have a casualty.”_

_“F-A-B. Be careful.”_

They came upon the spot, one of the offices almost unrecognizable from the damage sustained in the quake. Half of the ceiling had caved in, dusting the entire room in a layer of rubble.

“Hello?” Virgil called.

“Over here! P-Please!”

They followed the voice to the left-center of the room, coming from beneath a huge pile of overturned lab equipment, ceiling tiles, and shattered cupboards.

“Hi, we’re International Rescue and we’re going to get you out, okay?

“You assess him, I’ll start shifting this debris,” Gordon said.

“F-A-B,” Virgil answered, gently clambering over a fallen workbench to reach the stranded elderly man. He slipped, however, and his hand caught on something sharp as he reached out to brace himself. He swore loudly and retracted his hand. His glove had a visible gash along its palm, as no doubt so did his hand. He studied the rubble where his hand had been and spotted a nail sticking out from a part of the fallen ceiling. Great.

“Virgil?” Gordon popped up.

“ _Don’t,_ ” Virgil warned through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.” Gordon frowned at him before resuming his task as Virgil reached the cove where the man was buried from the waist down.

“What’s your name?” he asked, beginning to assess his condition. There was blood congealing from a head wound, and he immediately opened his medkit to take out some gauze pads and bandages, pressing one against the wound as well as slipping another one beneath his glove.

“Dr. Joseph Chen,” the man replied before groaning in pain.

“My colleague is shifting all of this rubble so we can get you out, okay? Now, I’m going to need you to follow my finger, okay, sir?” As Virgil began the patient assessment, asking Dr. Chen all sorts of questions, Gordon continued removing the stack of debris. It got smaller and smaller as the aquanaut worked until most of the doctor’s body was free enough to evac.

"You got a backboard and leg brace in your bag?” Virgil asked him and Gordon nodded, bringing over his medkit and they both set to work getting the doctor ready for transfer.

That was when things all went wrong again.

_“Virgil, Gordon, take cover, now! Incoming aftershock!”_

John’s voice over the comms snapped them both to attention just as the ground seemed to violently jump beneath them. Gordon immediately went to grab one of the lab desks, effortlessly picking it up and all but throwing it in Virgil’s direction. They didn’t even need to exchange words, brothers seamlessly working in tandem as they got the casualty under protection, dust raining down from the roof above them.

Virgil managed to dive under another lab desk just as a section of the ceiling above him collapsed. The shaking stopped and he immediately sought out Gordon, who was already working to drag Joseph out, pushing over the desks to free the backboard.

_“Everyone alright?”_

“We’re fine. Moving out.”

It wasn’t until Virgil went to retrieve his medkit so they could move out, picking it up in his right hand before shouldering it, did he realize how difficult this was going to be. His injured hand throbbed as he uncurled it, and he knew he would have to keep a balled fist as they carried the backboard. This was going to _hurt_.

“Lift on three?” Gordon directed and Virgil nodded. Gordon counted, and they moved, Virgil instantly gritting his teeth, the gauze pads cushioning the wound, but it still hurt like a bitch. Dr. Chen moaned in pain.

“We’ll have you out in no time, sir,” Virgil said, as they began to swiftly move back towards the stairwells. “Yours or mine?” he asked Gordon, who was leading them at the front from the man’s feet.

“Shall we say mine? You tripped up yours so anything could happen.”

Virgil resisted the urge to snap back. “F-A-B.”

They quickly maneuvered themselves back to the western side of the building, when they got the stairwell door open, Gordon cried out.

“BACK UP! BACK UP!”

“What’s wrong? It’s blocked?”

“Downwards is. That changes things,’ Gordon said, nodding.

Virgil swore. “We don’t have time for this. Scott, we’re going to need to evac from the roof.”

_“Say again, Thunderbird 2.”_

“Dustoff, Scott, c’mon!” Gordon answered briskly, and it could only be military-speak as Scott acknowledged immediately. Virgil, however, needed layman’s terms.

“We’re gonna need a Medevac. Can you or John get a chopper diverted our way? Tell them we have a casualty on a backboard.”

_“I’m on it,”_ John’s voice came over the comms.

_“What about you two?”_ Scott asked, and Virgil could hear the concern in his professional tone.

“We’ll figure that out.”

The building shook again, the sound of rubble cascading downwards filled their ears, the groan of the structure a very terrifying sound. Virgil was heavily doubting their ability to even make it upwards.

_“I’m going back to Thunderbird 1.”_

Gordon looked incredulous. “At least come and get us in Two, surely?”

_“One’s faster.”_

Virgil watched as a multitude of emotions passed over Gordon’s face. Confusion. Surprise. Understanding. _Fear._

“The buildings coming down,” he said simply. “Move!”

“Wait!” Virgil ordered. “Do we trust this stairwell to hold us when the bottom is gone? Do we try another one?”

“You just said it yourself there’s no time. We have two more floors to clear, that’s it. Two.”

Virgil nodded. “F-A-B. Scott, meet us at the West corner of the roof.”

_“F-A-B. See you there.”_

_“Chopper inbound, ETA one minute,”_ John chimed in.

“Let’s go!”

The stairwell held as they both moved as fast as they could with Dr. Chen on the backboard. One flight. Two flights. Three. Then the final climb up to the fire escape. Gordon kicked it swiftly with his foot and it banged open, a rush of fresh morning air whipping harshly around them.

The chopper was already hovering right above them, and Virgil signaled up for them to lower the capsule. They did that without sending a crew member first, meaning John had briefed them on IR’s standard medical training. Gordon and Virgil could do the grunt work themselves for a faster take off.

Within 90 seconds, they had Dr Chen ready to go. Virgil signaled up and he was steadily winched upwards into the chopper, just on the safe side of fast so it was smooth with no spin. Once he was up and secured, the chopper was gone, streaming as fast as it could to the nearest hospital.

“Casualty is up, Thunderbird 1.”

_“F-A-B, coming at you from the East.”_

They heard Thunderbird 1 before they saw her, the whine of her engines all too familiar and they turned to see a sleek, silver bolt making its way through the city sky. But they couldn’t enjoy the view for very long as the ground beneath them shifted again. Gordon swore loudly.

_“Scott, she’s gonna fall, get them up, now!”_

_“Working on it,”_ came Scott’s voice. _“Gordon, Virgil, now listen. I’m gonna drop the ladder, you climb up one at a time.”_

“F-A-B,” they both answered. Gordon would be first, that was non-negotiable.

They both watched with bated breath as the ladder dropped. It was a flimsy old thing in comparison to the full safety harnesses Two had. No doubt Scott would be on to Brains about that as soon as they got back to Base. Virgil stepped back.

“Gordon first, go.”

“But-”

“NOW, Gords, don’t argue with me.”

Gordon grumbled but nevertheless took a rung with a hand and foot and began to climb, making it halfway up with ease. Virgil was too busy watching his progress to notice he was all too close to be getting squished by the air conditioning unit. Only his instincts saved him, the sixth sense for danger forcing him to leap out of the way just as Gordon’s voice yelled out for him to duck. He rolled, landing on his stomach, breathing heavily as the unit hit the roof and disintegrated.

The roof began to shift. Cracks beginning to form, widening under Virgil’s shocked gaze and he scrambled to his feet, heart in his throat. He had two choices. Jump for the ladder or certain death. Praying it would take both of their weights, Virgil took a running leap and managed to grab a rung high enough for his feet to rest on the bottom one.

Voices were yelling in his ear, but he momentarily ignored them as he focused on clinging on for dear life, stabbing pain howling from his hand. Catching his breath, he looked down just as the building totally collapsed in on itself.

_“Virgil! Are you okay?”_

_“Virgil, report!”_

“I’m good,” he managed, still breathing heavily and trying with everything he had to both hold on and to not look down. They were fifteen stories up in the air with absolutely nothing to prevent them from splattering into the ground if they fell. Gordon at least had military training and was clearly holding his own. Virgil was certainly fit but even so, he was not so sure how long he could last.

_“Scott, get us down ASAP,”_ Gordon said in his ear.

_“Working on it, little brother, just hang in there.”_

_“It’s not me I’m worried about.”_

_“I know.”_

After what seemed like hours later but was likely only a few minutes, Thunderbird 1 was able to safely descend to the ground, back into the parking lot she’d first been landed in. Virgil made to move but found he simply could not, his entire body running off nothing but the mental command of _hang on tight._

“Hang on, Scott, Virgil’s in a bad way,” Gordon said, and Virgil wanted to disagree but found he couldn’t even open his mouth.

_“He’s not letting go?”_

_“No. I’m climbing down.”_

_“Careful, Gords.”_

_“I know, I know.”_

There was a loud thump that registered in his brain, but he didn’t even react, not until a hand was gently rubbing his shoulder. Both of their helmets were off, discarded on the ground beside them.

“Virg? You with me?”

Gordon. Virgil could only bring himself to nod ever so slightly before he tried to move his legs and the world immediately tipped sideways. His knees had buckled, his energy completely sapped, and gravity had its hold on him.

“Woah, woah, steady,” Gordon said, and gently lowered them both to the floor. “Scott, get down here, he’s spent.”

_“F-A-B.”_

Virgil registered One’s engines powering down, indicating she’d landed, and as he sat there, slumped against Gordon who was talking to someone, John probably, or Base, he tried to bring his fuzzy brain back to the present.

“Virg, you okay?” Scott was in front of him now, apparently having teleported from Thunderbird One’s cockpit.

“Yep,” he croaked.

“Liar,” Scott said but it was in his smothering big brother tone rather than Field Commander and there was a gentle smile on his face.

“He’s bust his hand too,” Gordon stated, holding Virgil’s right hand up. “Tore right through his glove.”

“Damn that looks nasty. Alright, short-stuff, let’s get you into Two.”

“We finished here?” Gordon asked.

“Yep, local authorities can handle clean-up of the collapsed building. John warned them in time to evacuate the area so there have been no further casualties. We just need to pack up our own equipment and we’re going home.”

Scott and Gordon looped themselves under both of Virgil’s arms so they could support him as they walked back to Thunderbird Two, Virgil’s feet not really making the job easy. His brothers were strong though, managing to take most of his weight and they were soon entering Two’s medical bay.

After helping him up onto a bunk and unzipping his flight suit to his waist, his brothers set about treating him. He was wrapped in a blanket, a pulse oximeter on his left hand while his right was currently being cleaned and dressed. The fuzz in his brain was clearing and he was a lot more aware of his surroundings. When Scott gave him painkillers to swallow with water, his hand didn’t even shake.

“Your pulse is back to normal, and your pupils aren’t dilated so looks like you’re good. Dad and Brains will probably want to run a few tests once we’re home just to be sure. You just need some rest. You feeling better?”

Virgil nodded.

“Good. You scared us a bit there.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. We’ll talk about it later. Now you’re gonna absolutely hate this but Gordo here is gonna have to fly you home.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“That’s final, Virg, you are in no state to fly.”

Gordon intervened, moving to stand between them both. “Scott, it’s fine.”

Scott spluttered, looking much how Virgil felt. That was a first. “No, Gordon, it’s not!”

“Seriously, Scott, it’s fine. Just let me make sure it’s bandaged properly,” he said, holding out his hand. Virgil looked smugly at his eldest brother as he held out his bandaged hand for inspection.

It appeared, however, that Gordon was not on his side. No sooner had he taken Virgil’s hand did he squeeze it extremely hard between both of his own. Virgil let out a string of loud expletives, doubling over where he was sat, shooting daggers at his younger brother.

“Oh, you had us both there, Gords,” Scott said through laughter, trying very much to hide it behind a hand. Virgil shifted his glare to him, and Scott just held up his hands. “What can I say, Virg, you know he’s the master at these things.”

“Now are you going to be a good patient, or do I have to restrain you?”

Virgil grumbled under his breath as he shifted on the bunk so he could lie down, while his brothers finished fussing over him.

“One scratch and you’re dead,” he warned Gordon who just grinned and sent him a mock-salute before leaving the medical bay for the cockpit.

“See you at home,” Scott said. “Comms are open so just yell if you need any of us but try and get some sleep.”

Virgil nodded, running a hand through his hair before relaxing back into the bunk as Scott departed. A few minutes later, he heard both of his brothers affirming pre-flight checks were completed and the familiar rhythm of Two’s engines sang around the room. He felt the moment they lifted off, the subtle shift from ground to air. Thunderbird 2 may be a giant bulk of a machine, but her lift-offs and landings were always smooth. He trusted Gordon to fly her, he did.

He was asleep before they crossed the coast, lulled by the sounds of his brothers talking about orange juice and stairs. Virgil didn’t even the energy to snap at them.

A few hours later and he was grumbling on a chair by the patio, his desire to play the piano thwarted due to his hand injury.

He’d been prescribed antibiotics by Brains just to ward off any infection that might have been forming and had also been subjected to some tests as Scott had said. They had all come back clear so other than his hand and being off duty for three days subject to another physical, he was absolutely fine.

His brothers were currently messing around in the pool before him, catching up on the water polo match they’d missed out on earlier, Alan roping Tin-Tin in to replace Virgil. The sun was lowering on the horizon and the inviting smell of the evening meal was wafting out from the kitchen. 

He picked up the datapad beside him which he’d been using to play online chess with John, gravitating to the website he used for his art supplies. John had, of course, whooped his ass several times and Virgil had given up, resorting to watching the match instead. Gordon’s team had the upper hand which wasn’t surprising, though they’d seemed to have stopped for a break as there were now only three of them in the pool.

“Hey, Virg!” came a voice behind him and he turned to see the missing player, Scott, swigging from a water bottle.

“Hey,” he said back, unenthusiastically.

His brother nodded towards the pool. “Come and be our referee? Alan’s cheating.”

Alan immediately protested but was swiftly dunked under the water by Tin-Tin and Gordon shrieked with laughter, high-fiving her over the net. Alan playfully shoved her in retaliation.

“Fine,” Virgil said, figuring he had nothing else to do and he was there anyway.

It was inevitable really. The floor surface around the pool was wet, given the bodies already in it all splashing around, as well as Scott having climbed out of it dripping wet.

As he made towards one of the pool loungers in line with the net, he felt his feet slide and he flailed in an effort to keep his balance. It failed drastically. The patio ended, the pool began, and he fell backwards into the water, unable to stop himself. He resurfaced, coughing before sighing resignedly with a blank look on his face as his siblings all broke into fits of laughter.

Yep, it really was just one of those days.


End file.
